The Dudleys of Budleigh

by P A Nash

  “Surely you know. It’s you. Frank and Ella Raleigh. You killed Anthony Buckerell and when you wake up, you’re going to tell me how and why?”

  Chapter 11 – That’s One Way to Stop a Train!

  It was dark and silent when Frank awoke. It took him a couple of minutes to fully understand where he was and how he got there. His head was thumping like a hammer in a blacksmith’s forge.

  He was in a room with no windows. He couldn’t tell whether it was morning, noon or night. For some reason, he was unable to move his hands to be able to see his watch. The whole room smelt of mouldy hay. He couldn’t move because although he was sitting up straight, his arms and legs were tied and tightly attached to a wooden kitchen chair. It seemed to be the same chair he had been in when drinking a strong cup of tea. He recalled the taste and his drowsiness. Drugged.

  He looked around as far as was possible. His eyes were getting accustomed to the darkness. Tied to another chair was a still sleeping Ella. There was one closed door in the far wall. No chinks of light were visible around the edges of the door frame. The room was bare of furniture but appeared to be partly covered in hay. No wallpaper or paintwork on the walls— just bare bricks. It could be an outhouse or an attic. He couldn’t tell.

  He heard a scurrying noise near his feet. Mice in the hay? Rats? He didn’t want to think about that! He heard another noise. A moan followed by a groan.

  “Frank?”

  “I’m here. About six feet away from you. I’m tied up as well.”

  “Dudley Weston?”

  “He’s not here. It’s just us. How’s your head?”

  “I’ve felt better.”

  There was a rustle.

  “I can’t move my hands or feet.”

  “Yes, same here.” replied Frank, “We’ve been tied up rather expertly.”

  “What do you remember about the kitchen…‌ about his accusation?”

  “Now you say that, I do remember. He accused us of murdering Anthony Buckerell. But, that’s impossible.”

  “No, it’s not!” A voice resounded loudly from the furthest corner of the room.

  “Dudley Weston?”

  “Yes, Mrs Raleigh. I’ve been waiting patiently for you to wake up. Would you like another cup of tea?” He laughed mockingly.

  “Let us out of these ropes. We need to get home.”

  “No chance!”

  “Why keep us here in this cellar?” demanded Frank. “Or is it an attic?”

  “If you would just loosen these ropes on my hands. They’re hurting me.”

  “Tough, Mrs Raleigh.”

  “Just let us go home and we’ll say no more about it,” Ella lied. If Ella could have crossed her fingers then they would all have been crossed.

  “You’re not going home again for a good number of years.”

  “What are you going to do with us?” Ella’s voice now betrayed a touch of genuine fear.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to exact any revenge. I’ll leave that to the powers that be. They’ll administer justice. I just want to hear from your own lips how you did it.”

  “Did what?”

  “Don’t be so blooming dense, Mr Raleigh. You both managed to do something that I wished I had the nerve to do. He probably deserved it. But I still want to hear from you. How did you kill him?”

  Ella had regained her nerve. “That’s strange, Mr Weston, because I was most interested to hear how you did it.”

  “What?”

  “How did you murder Anthony Buckerell? It must have been you. Or else, why would you run away after we questioned you? That’s the actions of a guilty conscience.”

  “Oh, I see, what you’re doing. Trying to deflect your guilt onto me. Well, it won’t work. I’ve got all the time in the world. When you’re good and ready, we’re gonna record your confession. And then I’m gonna ring the police and tell ‘em to come here and arrest you.”

  “You’re going to have a long wait.”

  There was silence. Then Frank heard some more rustling near where Dudley Weston had been. Suddenly, a bright light shone from there onto his face. Then, another, directly onto Ella’s face. It was so bright that neither Frank nor Ella could see anything else in the room.

  “Right. Some questions. Firstly, how did he die? Was it really a heart attack or was it poison?”

  “You know it was poison,” spluttered Frank.

  “Correct. How did you administer it? Did you bribe your police officer friends?”

  “No bribery because there was no need. I didn’t kill him, as well you know.”

  “Perhaps it was Mrs Raleigh, then? Was she in the room as well? I read about it in the paper but they didn’t mention your charming wife?”

  “I was at home.”

  “Really?”

  “Bella and George came around in the evening. My friends.”

  “Phone them and check Ella’s story,” added Frank.

  “So it was just you, then?”

  “Don’t be so ridiculous, Dudley. You’re wasting our time and your time. When the toxicology report comes out, they’ll be able to tell us all which poison killed him. The police will be all over your house. They will examine every one of your exotic plants. And if they find a plant that produces the strain of poison that killed Anthony Buckerell, then they will arrest you for murder!”

  There was silence from the other side of the room.

  “That’s given you something to think about, eh?” remarked Ella.

  The lights went off and before they could do anything, the door opened and Dudley Weston left the room.

  “Well…‌” started Frank.

  “Sssh, Frank. Listen,” whispered Ella.

  They strained to hear any noise. There was none.

  “He hasn’t gone down or upstairs. I don’t think this is a cellar or an attic.”

  “I bet we’re on the ground floor.”

  “I didn’t hear a key turn or a bolt slam when he left.”

  “Useful to know. Are your ropes really hurting you?”

  “Of course not!”

  “How tight are they?”

  “Not as tight as they were!”

  “Same here. We need to work at loosening them and then prepare an escape plan.”

  ***

  Dudley Weston returned later. It may have been a gap of two hours. Neither Ella nor Frank could tell or cared.

  “Brought you some refreshment. Tea and biscuits. I’ll leave them here.”

  He moved a small circular table and placed it between them. He put a tray with mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits on the table.

  “We’re not hungry.” Ella snapped.

  “How are we going to eat or drink if you’ve tied us up?”

  “Good point,” said Dudley. He laughed. “See you later!”

  After he had walked out of the room, they listened, once more, for any clues. No key. No bolt. No footsteps. There was a sound of another door opening and closing.

  “He’s either gone outside or there’s another room.”

  “Perhaps we’re next to the kitchen?”

  “I didn’t hear a kettle boil.”

  Again silence.

  “How’s the loosening going?” Ella asked.

  “I’m getting there. Give me another hour or so.”

  “I’m almost free. My hands are smaller than yours and he didn’t tie them that tight in the beginning.”

  “Keep going, love.”

  In a few minutes, Frank heard a scraping sound and a whispered cry of “Yes!”

  “Success?”

  “Like a mobile phone! Hands–free!”

  Another sixty seconds dragged by.

  “Free!”

  “Keep your voice down and come over here and help me.”

  Ella got up and rushed over to Frank. “Watch the ta…‌.”

  Ella collided with the table. The china mugs and plate went flying. The noise was enough to be heard in Totnes. Tea sprayed over Frank. Ice cold tea. They
both waited for the inevitable response to the clatter. Incredibly, there was none.

  Ella quickly untied Frank. They both stood there, arms wrapped around each other in a desperately thankful hug.

  “Time to get out of here.”

  They opened the door and went stealthily into the kitchen.

  “The tea was ice cold. No wonder we didn’t hear the kettle.”

  There were two doors. One the way they had come in through the front room, the other out to the back of the house.

  “He may be in the front room,” whispered Frank. They left the house through the unlocked back door.

  Outside it was daylight but raining, wet mizzly rain that soaked through their clothes in minutes.

  “We can’t go back through the woods. If he’s in the front room, he’ll see us.”

  “He may have gone out. If we go along the track, we may run into him.”

  “Let’s head out through the back. I think we’ll be able to reach the river that way.”

  They steadily made their way through the shallow undergrowth, bushes and small trees that surrounded the back of the house. After a couple of minutes, they were far enough away from the house to be able to stop and listen.

  “I don’t think he’s following us. I think we’re going to be okay!”

  “Did you hear a car?”

  “No. A car couldn’t follow us into here.”

  “I’m not so sure. It’s pretty creepy in these woods. It’s like the trees have got eyes. “

  Ella was spooked.

  Frank peered through the gloom. “There looks like a clearing ahead.”

  They made for it with as much speed as they could muster and stumbled over some metal rails and wooden sleepers. A deafening train whistle behind them caused them to turn towards the source of the sound. Steaming towards them at about twenty—five miles per hour was a 5700 class 0—6—0 Pannier engine. Frank grabbed Ella and vaulted frantically away from the train and onto the sloping ballast at the side of the track.

  The train rumbled and screeched to a halt. Both driver and guard jumped down from the train. Incredulous faces stared down from the carriage windows.

  “You can’t stop the 10.30 from Buckfastleigh to Totnes. It’s against regulations!” shouted the driver.

  “What in heaven’s name were you doing?” shouted the guard, “We almost killed you!”

  “I’m sorry,” cried Ella. “We’ve just escaped from a cottage over there.” She waved a hand blindly behind her.

  “We were kidnapped. Imprisoned.”

  “You’re soaked through. Where’s your coats?” asked the driver.

  “Thomas, get back to your cab. I’ll deal with this.”

  Thomas grunted to no one in particular. “Well, that’s one way to stop a train!” and plodded away back to his cab.

  Ella turned towards the guard and held onto the sleeve of his uniform. “Please, take us to the police,” she sobbed. “We need them to arrest Dudley. He thinks we’re murderers.”

  “Well, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about but you need to warm up. Come with me to the guard’s van. We’ll take you to Totnes.”

  Frank and Ella followed the guard and climbed aboard the train.

  “We’ll pay for a ticket,” Frank volunteered.

  “It sounds like that’s the least of your problems,” laughed the guard. He stuck his head out of the door and waved a green flag.

  In a short while, the train jolted and moved slowly forwards on its journey.

  The guard picked up a mobile phone and spoke to Totnes Station.

  “We’ve had a bit of a to—do. We’ve stopped to pick up two sodden people just after Staverton. It’s lucky we were still in the vicinity of the station otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to stop in time.”

  He listened to some chatter from Totnes.

  “Yes, I think they’re genuine. They want to talk to the police.”

  Again he listened.

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  He turned to Frank and Ella. “They’ll be there to meet you at the station.”

  “Yeah, still here. We’ll lament our way towards you.” Another short gap. “ About thirty—five minutes, Totnes Riverside. Speak to you soon.”

  He put down his phone and turned back towards the shivering couple.

  “Right, here’s a warm blanket each. No, make it two. Wrap them around you. Sit here by the fire. Yes, we still have a brazier in the guard’s van. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  Both Frank and Ella shook their heads. “No, thank you!”

  The train rumbled on its way. The warmth of the fire permeated their soaked clothes. The guard made inconsequential chit—chat and Totnes Riverside soon rolled into view.

  The train lurched to a halt.

  “Just wait until the paying passengers have dismounted. Don’t want them to see you all wet and straggly. Not a good advert for Devon weather, even at this time of the year.”

  Frank and Ella were relieved not to have to walk through a gauntlet of gawping passengers.

  The guard’s van door opened and two police officers entered the van. Ella fully expected to see WPC Knowle and PC Hydon. There were female and male but not Elsie and Alf.

  “Are you Frank and Ella Raleigh?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Well, sir and madam, you are under arrest for the murder of Anthony Buckerell!”

  Chapter 12 – The Thamacin Revelation

  Frank and Ella looked at the policeman in stunned silence.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” muttered Ella.

  Frank recovered his powers of speech. “We’ve just been kidnapped, drugged and imprisoned. And you’re arresting us?”

  “Sir and madam, you do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in Court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

  “Yes, we understand, we’ve heard it before.”

  Ella, much to her surprise, remained calm. “Look, officers, you’ve got it all wrong. Can we go to your police station and we’ll explain our situation? We’ll answer any questions you want to ask us.”

  “I suppose Dudley Weston has put you up to this.”

  The female officer raised her eyebrows before replying. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to disclose that information.”

  “You just did,” said Frank.

  ***

  They sat in the interview room at Totnes Police Station. They declined the presence of a solicitor.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, then?”

  “No, thank you,” replied Ella. “I don’t think we’ll be drinking cups of tea again for some little while.”

  “This is not a formal interview…‌” began the policeman.

  “Oh, yes it is,” interrupted Frank. “Turn the recorder on, please.”

  “Okay, sir. If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  “Right. This interview is being conducted by Police Sergeant Cornworthy and Police Constable Tigley. For the benefit of the tape please tell us your names.”

  “My name is Ella Raleigh.”

  “My name is Frank Raleigh, her husband.”

  “Thank you. Please tell us how you came to be on the Buckfastleigh to Totnes train?”

  “We went to meet Dudley Weston after his wife came to tell us that he’d run away. We were helping the East Devon Police to investigate the suspected murder of Anthony Buckerell, a Budleigh Salterton solicitor.” Frank paused for breath.

  Ella took over. “Dudley Weston phoned us and lured us to his cottage. We thought we were helping him. He gave us drugged cups of tea, tied us up and tried to get us to confess to this murder. He seemed to think that because Frank was in the room with Anthony Buckerell when he died that Frank must have done it.”

  “He didn’t seem to understand that I was in the presence of a police officer all the time. Both the police and ourselves think the murder was impossibl
e.”

  “And anyway, we’re not likely to be trying to solve a murder that we committed, are we?”

  “Right, if I may interrupt you for a second. You seem to have answered most of the questions I was planning to ask but not the question I asked.”

  “We escaped from the cottage, ran through the woods and stumbled onto the railway line right in front of the train. It was going so slowly it stopped without running us over. They let us get on board and took us to Totnes where you arrested us!”

  The female officer leaned forward and asked Ella. “What’s the name of the police officer who was in the room when the murder supposedly took place?”

  “WPC Elsie Knowle. A wonderful police officer who will, one day, make a fine detective.”

  The door opened and another police officer walked in. “I heard that. That’s very kind of you to say that, Ella!”

  “WPC Knowle has entered the room.”

  “I heard about your little escapade. May I sit down?”

  The policeman quickly scurried to bring in another chair.

  “May we turn the recorder off, now?” WPC Knowle asked.

  Frank nodded. The policewoman, Sargeant Cornworthy, nodded and the policeman, PC Tigley, pressed a switch to halt the recording.

  “I thought you promised to let me know when you went gallivanting about the countryside?”

  “We tried to phone you. We left a message.”

  “Yes, I heard it. Do you know how many pubs have bus shelters outside them?”

  “No?”

  “You forgot to tell me the name of the village! A fine detective you’ll make!”

  “Sorry. Stupid mistake.”

  “Luckily Lizzie here sent out a message to us in East Devon when Dudley came to see her. I saw your names and thought I’d come down to see what was going on.”

  “Dudley Weston came into the police station?”

  “Yes,” Lizzie Cornworthy replied, “he told us the story about Frank Raleigh being the only one who could have killed Anthony Buckerell. He convinced me and my colleague to take the matter further. PC Tigley suggested we arrest at the railway station you to stop you running away.”

  “How did you know we were on the train?”

  “You were followed by Dudley Weston. He phoned me to tell me how you’d stopped the train.”